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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27646202">It's Just a Little Kiss</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Just_for_Ships_and_Giggles/pseuds/Just_for_Ships_and_Giggles'>Just_for_Ships_and_Giggles</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Parkner 5+1's [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>5+1 Things, Almost Kiss, But Harley loves him too, Explicit Language, First Kiss, I Tried, I can't write without swearing, I'm Bad At Tagging, Kissing, M/M, Masturbation, Mentioned One Direction, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant, Peter loves Harley, Precious Peter Parker, Sexual Tension, but only mentioned, precious harley keener</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 19:53:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,162</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27646202</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Just_for_Ships_and_Giggles/pseuds/Just_for_Ships_and_Giggles</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>5 times Peter wanted to kiss Harley and the 1 time he finally got to</p><p>(title from A Kiss by THE DRIVER ERA)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harley Keener/Peter Parker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Parkner 5+1's [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2021450</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>171</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>It's Just a Little Kiss</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I want my crush to kiss me, so of course, I had to live vicariously through Peter and Harley and have them live out my dreams for me</p><p>Also, 5+1's are The Best, so…</p><p>(This is not beta read, so all mistakes are mine)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>1.</p><p>Watching a horror movie with a guy you most definitely have a crush on <em>in your bedroom, alone</em> might not be the best idea. Peter should know. He made that mistake.</p><p>First, there was the cliche “touching hands in the popcorn” moment. <em>Really</em>, Peter should have thought there was a possibility of that happening and insisted they got their own bowls. Maybe he could have passed it off as “You always hog the popcorn” or “I don’t like it super buttery while you do.”</p><p>Instead, he was and <em>idiot</em> and reached his hand in without looking. Harley’s hand brushed his. He got goosebumps and his heart skipped like, 7 beats.</p><p>Then, there was a jump scare, and Peter practically <em>jumped</em> out of his skin. Without even meaning to—or maybe his subconscious knew what it was doing, and what it was doing was cause Peter physical pain because—he promptly buried his head in Harley’s shoulder and let out a very manly squeak. Peter pulled his head away and maybe, kind of scooted away a bit so it didn’t happen again. Harley laughed out loud at him.</p><p>Peter probably would have passed out from embarrassment if Harley hadn’t pulled him back with a gentle hand on his upper arm and kept his own over Peter’s shoulders without even taking his eyes off the screen. So Peter didn’t pass out. Instead, his heart just spontaneously combusted.</p><p>After that, he kept his eyes on the TV, <em>definitely not</em> glancing at Harley’s face every minute or so to admire his side profile, and pretended that the skin where Harley’s hand was resting wasn’t on <em>metaphorical fire</em>.</p><p>But he should’ve known life wouldn’t stay that simple or <em>awesome</em> for very long.</p><p>Harley removed his arm around an hour into the movie and announced that he had to refill the popcorn, but that Peter could keep watching because Harley had already seen it—which, why would Peter want that? The only reason he ever put up with Harley’s love of gory horror movies was because it was <em>Harley</em>, and Peter was pretty much in love with him. If he didn’t get to cuddle into Harley’s side or have Harley comb his fingers through his hair—something he’d started doing about 45 minutes in, much to Peter’s surprise and immense happiness—he didn’t want to watch a creepy movie.</p><p>When Harley got back, the air felt stifled all of a sudden. Peter wasn’t sure whether or not Harley would appreciate Peter leaning back on his shoulder or if he’d reciprocate the casual physical touches, like what had been happening before. Too scared to initiate any contact, Peter stayed on his side of the queen bed in his room, arms crossed over his chest like they were glued, and head strictly forward to face the TV, because heaven forbid he looked over at Harley at the wrong moment and made it even more awkward.</p><p>(It had become habit for his eyes to wander over to Harley whenever he was in the room, so that was a surprisingly difficult trend to break.)</p><p>Eventually, his resolve had to wear down.</p><p>It was a mistake to look over at Harley though, because as soon as he did, he was transfixed.<br/>
The light from the television Harley was still focused on with rapt attention casted a purple glow over his face, making his eyes look midnight blue and his cheekbones seemed to glow. Harley really had a nice side profile, not that Peter hadn’t taken notice of this on multiple occasions prior, but most times it was in the daylight, not the colorful darkness of 11:30 at night on movie night. Now, Harley’s face had a soft filter and it elevated everything just so.</p><p>Without even meaning to, Peter was leaning in slightly, ready to turn Harley’s face toward his with gentle fingers to a soft cheek with the intent of kissing him until the movie was long forgotten.</p><p>But then,</p><p>There was a scream sounding from the TV speakers.</p><p>Harley jumped a bit in his spot before laughing out loud at himself. Peter’s head snapped back and it took a moment for him to get his breathing back under wraps before he could stutter out that, “I hafta pee” in the most casual voice he could muster. Harley mumbled a “Yeah, okay,” without even turning away from the television.</p><p>Peter splashed cold water on his face until he was gone long enough that Harley wouldn’t be suspicious, but not so long that he would worry.</p><p>He swore to himself that he’d never let himself get into his own head enough that he almost kisses Harley again.</p><p> </p><p>2</p><p>Obviously, promises you make to yourself are never as beneficial as one might pretend.</p><p>Not even two weeks later, another almost-kiss happened.</p><p>Peter got sick—because he can, just not as often or as badly as most. Since Harley graduated early and was waiting until Peter graduated to start college, Harley stayed with him while May had to work.</p><p>It was pretty great, if Peter was being totally honest.</p><p>Harley was just as doting as he expected, bringing him whatever he needed and checking up on him almost constantly, and, when Peter mumbled a “can you just stay with me?” Harley didn’t laugh. He just smiled at sat next to Peter on the bed.</p><p>Problem was, Peter was incredibly restless. Every moment he spent in bad, he thought about all the things he could be doing, if his fever would just break so he could escape Helicopter Harley.</p><p>(He actually loved that Harley was so protective and that he cared so much because it gave Peter hope that maybe Harley could actually like him back.)</p><p>But that didn’t change the fact that he wanted to get out of bed badly.He just needed a few minutes—or hours—in the lab. Maybe a break to do some simple training. Hell, even a trip to get himself a snack would probably do him some good.</p><p>Instead, every time he tried to get up for a glass of water, Harley would just lightly shove him back down onto the bed, Peter would pretend it didn’t set his nerves alight, and then he’d watch Harley bring him water in a chilled glass because he knew Peter liked it cold.</p><p>This went on for almost two hours before Peter decided he was just going to make a break for it. Hop over Harley, who was sitting on his bed closest to the door, and then absolutely <em>yeet</em> himself into the kitchen to get his own damn glass of water.</p><p>Of course, this didn’t work. He tried to vault over Harley, but his foot got caught in the sheets and he’d landed rather unceremoniously on top of his crush’s crotch, so that wasn’t awkward and slightly arousing at all, and then, as soon as he managed to stand himself up again, he was red from embarrassment and his head had began pounding because of a stupid headache he’d had all day.</p><p>Not only that, but Harley was now watching him clutch his head with a fond and amused expression and Peter kind of couldn’t handle that. But, Harley wasn’t diving after him to pin him back to the bed—although, the idea of Harley pinning him to anything was rather hot—and Peter forced himself to remember his plan and tried booking it out of his room.</p><p>Unfortunately, the headache made his eyes go fuzzy and blotchy, and a wave of nausea caused him to almost collapse. In fact, he only managed to get out of his bedroom before he promptly slid down the wall he was leaning on to take deep breaths from the floor.</p><p>He’d gotten so close, but then Harley was next to him, bending over to pick him up, princess style—and if Peter weren’t enjoying it so much, he might’ve been embarrassed—and carrying him back into the bedroom.</p><p>Once Peter was placed carefully back on the bed, Harley climbed over him, pinning his wrists to the bed with his own warm hands, which, wow was Peter <em>dreaming</em>? And Peter thanked whatever Gods were out there that his eyes had regained focus so he could memorize the view, and <strike>maybe file it away for future use</strike>.</p><p>Then, Harley was ducking his head to reach Peter’s ear and whispering, “Is this what I have to do to get you to sit still for a few minutes Spider-Baby?”</p><p>And Peter could feel his warm breath—that smelled like a mix of vanilla and coffee—on his face.</p><p>And the blood in his body was hastily rerouting south because Harley’s voice was all husky and sounded like Peter imagined it would if they were doing something a <em>bit more intimate</em>.</p><p>And fuck, Peter’s lips were mere inches from Harley’s. All it would take was Peter lifting his head slightly and then they’d be kissing. He’d be kissing Harley. It was more tempting than anything Peter had ever experienced.</p><p>But there was a tickle in his throat and a pounding in his head, seemingly only there to remind Peter that, oh yeah, he was sick, and the last thing he wanted was Harley to get sick, because no one would be there to stay home with him and watch reruns of Friends with him until they fell asleep. Because Peter still had school. And May wouldn’t let him skip to stay with Harley.</p><p>So he did just about the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. (At least, it felt like the hardest thing because <em>he</em> had somehow gotten impossibly hard and Harley was looking positively delicious on top of him.)</p><p>He lightly shoved Harley off of him and whined, “You’re so protective. I mean, it’s cute and all but I can get a glass of water without dying.” Harley just chuckled, face slightly pink, possibly from when Peter called him cute, which made Peter happy, and said, “From the looks of it, no you can’t. You get up for 10 seconds and I’m havin’ to carry you back in here.”</p><p>(And then, if he got himself off in the bathroom when Harley went to the store for some of Peter’s favorite juice, no one else had to know.)</p><p> </p><p>3</p><p>After the whole thing with him being sick and enjoying Harley taking care of him a bit too much, Peter decided he needed to distance himself from Harley, at least somewhat. He'd gotten to comfortable with his feelings and that was <em>bad. </em>It was never a nice feeling when you had to look your best friend in the eye, knowing you jerked off to the thought of him. (Before that one day, Peter had been showing incredible restraint)</p><p>Peter got this feeling too often to be comfortable after that day because Harley had a thing for making eye contact when he spoke to people—something about showing that he cared about what they were saying—and although it normally gave him butterflies, they started coming with an overwhelming feeling of guilt, because Harley didn’t like him that way and he was going to be weirded out by Peter for the rest of his life if only he knew.</p><p>(Not that he ever would, because Peter sure as hell wasn’t going to tell him.)</p><p>But whatever. Peter was distancing himself from Harley. And pretending he couldn’t see the hurt look on Harley’s face every time he left a room or conversation because Harley was present.</p><p>He wasn’t ignoring Harley, per se, after all, he was in love with the guy and it was too hard to go completely cold turkey, but it was certainly a contrast from their normal pleasant atmosphere and playful banter when they were together.</p><p>Peter pretended the space didn’t bother him.</p><p>It was easy to pretend nothing was wrong, since he’d gotten quite experienced at hiding what was really going on, what with the Spider-Man stuff, but some people knew him better than that.</p><p>Aunt May noticed the day he decided he wasn’t going to spend every waking moment thinking about Harley. Apparently, he looked distressed and, after May asked how he was and Peter didn’t mention Harley within 30 seconds, she somehow knew whatever it was had something to do with the blond. It took one of her signature ‘looks’ and Peter was caving and telling her the whole story. Well, maybe excluding some details.</p><p>Then, at school the next day, when Peter wasn’t spending all of lunch chatting with Harley, instead actually engaging in the conversation, Ned, MJ, and Betty figured out something was up.</p><p>(Maybe Peter had attachment issues when it came to Harley, if all it took was him not staring at Harley for 2 minutes for something to be terribly amiss.)</p><p>What hurt though, just less than having to cease speaking with Harley in itself, was that everyone assured him that it wasn’t necessary. Assured him that Harley wasn’t uncomfortable and that he didn’t need to stop speaking to his crush because there was a chance he’d found out about it. It hurt because he knew Harley could never like him as much as he liked Harley. It just didn’t make sense. So why would they give him false hope?</p><p>(“But how do you know he doesn’t like you?” Betty would ask him. “Because he’s still going on dates with other people.” Peter would think.)</p><p>Harley was <em>attractive</em>. This was pretty much a fact. Harley was the kind of guy that had had straight boys ask him out, because he apparently made people question their sexuality. He was the one that had made Peter aware of his own bisexuality. Even MJ said Harley was “fucking hot,” and she’d been comfortable in the fact that she was a lesbian for years.</p><p>So yeah, Harley was <em>hot</em>.</p><p>Call him selfish, but Peter just kind of wished he was the only person to notice this. Then he wouldn’t have to watch other guys ask Harley out all the time.</p><p>And Harley would say yes, just because he finally could, unlike when he was back in Rose Hill and any and all dates he went on felt like they had to be secret. (Harley had confided in Peter about this after Peter had asked, “Why do you date guys that you know are dicks?”)</p><p>They really were dicks, too.</p><p>Peter hadn’t realized just how much until he got a call one night—a night he knew Harley had a date, because he’d bought a pint of Ben &amp; Jerry’s and rented a rom-com so he could wallow while he knew Harley was out with some other dude. The call was from Harley, and embarrassingly, he’d squeaked when he saw his name on the caller ID. As soon as he picked up, though. His excitement was quelled because Harley was crying and the rain outside that Peter had thought matched his mood, matched Harley’s even more because he had been stood up on his date and Peter saw red, because what kind of person stands someone like Harley up with no explanation? What kind of person stands anyone up without an explanation?</p><p>As soon as Harley had told him the guy hadn’t showed, Peter invited him over with the promise of ice cream and romance movies.</p><p>Once he arrived, Peter learned that Harley had waited for three hours. Three hours that Peter had spent thinking Harley had been having the time of his life—he goes on a lot of dates, but he’d been excited for this one. Instead, Harley was waiting, alone in a booth, being slowly consumed by his already troubling anxiety.</p><p>He’d left the restaurant after he overheard a waiter talking about how pathetic it was that he was just sitting there by himself without having ordered anything.</p><p>Peter let Harley collapse in his arms once he opened the door to find a tear stained Harley, his arms wrapped around his stomach as protection from the cold, and tried not to scream. In his eyes, someone as beautiful as Harley should never cry. Never. He shoved away his want to go after the boy that had stood Harley up and give him a piece of his mind, and settled for comforting the boy he loved while promising himself that if he ever got the chance to be with Harley, he’d never let him get hurt again.</p><p>Once Harley’s sobs had slowed, Peter helped him to the couch so they could finish Peter’s movie together. The two end up on the couch, Harley practically in Peter’s lap and Peter pretending this isn’t affecting him because dammit, this is not the time—And Harley’s head is resting on his shoulder and he’s letting Peter run his fingers through soft honey colored hair with reverence.</p><p>(It’s such a soft moment that Peter is glad he’d already seen the movie he’d rented, because he was paying zero attention to the television.)</p><p>They’re 3/4ths of the way through when Harley speaks up. “Am I really that terrible that he couldn’t even tell me he wasn’t coming?”</p><p>Peter’s eyes widen. Because the exact opposite is true. Harley is the opposite of terrible. Peter intends to tell him so.</p><p>He turns, causing Harley to lift his head from Peter’s shoulder and do his “I’m-making-eye-contact-with-you-to-show-I’m-listening” thing. Butterflies fill Peter’s stomach. Again.</p><p>“No, of course not Harls. You’re wonderful, and the guy that had the audacity to think you were anything less doesn't deserve you anyway.” Peter’s sure his eyes are embarrassingly earnest and that his cheeks are far too red to be normal, but with the way Harley’s looking back at him, it’s really hard to care.</p><p>He finds it incredibly easy to wax poetic about Harley Keener—always has—and it seems to be exactly what he needs to do in the moment, so he allows himself to. He tells Harley just how talented and smart and cool and funny he thinks he is—maybe he keeps out how cute Harley is, at least the things that are in a more romantic context than the moment called for—and it’s like the simplest task he’s ever been given.</p><p>He knows he’s probably taking it a bit overboard,</p><p>But Harley’s looking at him like he might love Peter back,</p><p>And he can’t find it in himself to be bothered.</p><p>When Peter trails off in the middle of a sentence about Harley’s freckles that he’s always been insecure about, it’s not because Harley looks uncomfortable. It’s because their faces have migrated closer together since the conversation began, and Harley’s ocean eyes just flicked down to Peter’s lips.</p><p>And then, Harley proceeded to run his tongue over his own, and Peter followed the movement oh, so closely.</p><p>Peter’s throat felt dry all of a sudden.</p><p>His head was tilting to the side ever so slightly, and Harley seemed to be mirroring the motion.</p><p>Holy shit, they were going to kiss they were going to kiss they were going to—</p><p>Peter committed his second crime. He pulled away from Harley Keener as he was about to kiss him.</p><p>(He knew they were going to kiss, he knew it. He could feel it in the air, and he knew from Harley’s shiver that he could feel it too—)</p><p>But then he remembered something. Harley had just gotten stood up. As in, he was going to be on a date, but then his date didn’t show. And then he went to Peter’s. And then Peter had tried to kiss him. What kind of insensitive—No, no. Harley had wanted it too! Correction: Harley had wanted it too?</p><p>It was just going to be a mistake. It was going to be one of those things where Peter poured his heart and soul and deepest feelings for Harley into the kiss, only to have the latter pull away with a, “Thanks for being there for me. You’re a good friend, Peter.”</p><p>So they didn’t kiss. Peter pretended he couldn’t see the disappointment etched on Harley’s face when they didn’t kiss and shifted his position further away from Harley than they’d been the whole night.</p><p>He couldn’t handle being Harley’s rebound, even if the date hadn’t even happened. He couldn’t handle it.</p><p> </p><p>4</p><p>What was it with Peter and almost kissing Harley before/during/or after a movie? He wasn’t sure. But it kept fucking happening.</p><p>They had gone to see a movie in the theater that Harley had been looking forward to forever—Peter had payed because it made his heart feel better when he pretended it was a date and he was just being a gentleman to his boyfriend—and then they’d decided to walk home because it was late spring and it was just warm enough for the subway to feel stuffy, but not so hot that the sun was scorching their skin. In fact, there was a multitude of clouds above their heads, angry and black, but Peter payed no mind, as the forecast said another two days before rain.</p><p>It had been pleasant, and nice respite from the tense air that seemed to surround them after too many almost kisses. (Peter wanted desperately to call it sexual tension, because shit wouldn’t that be a dream? But he didn’t want to force anything. So he blamed it on the awkwardness that had been present since Peter tried to put space between two best friends.)</p><p>But then it had begun to rain, and Peter, ever the idiot, had assured Harley it would be warm, so they wouldn’t need jackets.</p><p>Now, there was rain pelting the two of them, and Harley’s black t-shirt was soon to be soaked through. Peter didn’t mind. After all, it gave him a nice view of Harley’s abdominal muscles when it stuck to his skin, but he could tell it wasn’t the nicest feeling for Harley, and that made him want to speed home so they could change.</p><p>What gave him pause was that Harley seemed to slow down.</p><p>He’d gotten a good few feet ahead of Harley before he felt a gentle hand on his forearm, Harley pulling him back to where he’d stopped in the middle of the slowly emptying sidewalk.</p><p>Before Peter could get a word in, maybe ask why they’d stopped so abruptly, Harley gave him a soft smile. “Y’know, I’ve always wanted to dance in the rain. It never rained very hard back in Tennessee, and when it did, my ma was so insistent that Abbie and I stay inside so we didn’t catch a cold.”</p><p>Peter wasn’t quite sure what Harley was asking, but he saw an opportunity and, screw it all, he was going to take it.</p><p>“Well no one’s stopping you now. Care to dance, Harls?” He asked. He tried so hard to sound suave, but it failed, as he lost his confidence halfway through the second sentence. It was too late, though. He’d already extended a hand for Harley to take. It was Harley’s turn to make a move.</p><p>Luckily, he made the good one, slipping his hand into Peter’s easily, happily. The first thought that crossed Peter’s mind was the One Direction lyric, “Your hand fits in mine like it’s made just for me,” but he banished all thoughts of Zayn Malik in favor of the boy in front of him, eyes cast at the ground shyly as if Peter wasn’t the one to offer.</p><p>Now, Peter was not musically gifted. He could barely carry a tune, and he knew that he was rarely on pitch without a song playing already, but then, Harley’s was bringing his arms to rest over Peter’s shoulders and Peter’s own found purchase around Harley’s waist, and they were swaying to no music at all, and Peter just had to hum a little something in Harley’s ear.</p><p>(Without meaning to, he was humming Little Things, because his previous thoughts had gotten it stuck in his head, but Harley either hadn’t picked up in this, or hadn’t cared enough to comment.)</p><p>People were still rushing past them on the sidewalk, and the rain was still pounding around them, but neither minded. Too wrapped up in each other. In the momentary respite from the hustle and bustle of everyday life.</p><p>It was nice. It was perfect. It was everything.</p><p>But then someone bumped straight into them, and even though Peter wanted to cuss out the lady, she’d really done nothing too terribly wrong, and Peter and Harley had been the ones completely stopped in the middle of a crowded walkway.</p><p>It did break the moment though.</p><p>Or maybe it didn’t.</p><p>They were still in each other’s arms, heads still bent together, foreheads touching. (If Peter closed his eyes, he could imagine they’d just been kissing.)</p><p>(It didn’t feel like he’d need his imagination when Harley’s eyes trailed down to his lips, again.)</p><p>Maybe they’d get to kiss this time! Maybe, finally, they could do what he—and hopefully, Harley—had been waiting for for months. Maybe—a crack of lightning lit up the dim sky. 6 seconds later—Peter tried not to count but failed—a crack of thunder ripped through the sky.</p><p>Harley jerked away from him. Then made a joke about Thor.</p><p>Sure, the sudden apprehension in Harley’s gaze seemed to shake Peter to the core, but the joke was nice. It brought everything back to normal. (Sadly.)</p><p>There was still no kiss.</p><p> </p><p>5</p><p>Lab days are especially hard after so many awkward almost-encounters with Harley's lips.</p><p>Those days when Peter has to spend hours watching Harley when his totally in his element and being all smart and hot at the same time, Peter has to resist the incredible urge to shove Harley back against one of the lab tables and kiss him breathless. (That’s not how it works, Peter knows, but he wishes it was.)</p><p>He wouldn’t give up lab days for anything, though. It’s time with Harley when they’re alone together, as least for the most part, and Peter doesn’t feel like he has to vie for attention from him.</p><p>But even lab days have to be tainted with what Peter always hopes is a promise of a kiss, only to have it ripped from him like all other good things in his life.</p><p>It’s been a good day, school going by quickly and Tony leaving for a meeting so Peter can admire Harley without Tony making weird comments because he knows too much.</p><p>And admire him, Peter certainly would, because Harley was looking good.</p><p>He was wearing a pair of black skinny jeans that seemed tailored to fit him perfectly, and, not that Peter was looking, but they made Harley’s ass look perfect. Not only that, but he was also wearing Peter’s old Academic Decathlon sweatshirt from a year or so ago. At lunch earlier that day, Harley had said he was cold, and Peter maybe, possibly shucked his hoodie off a little too quickly. (Ned had given him a strange look that showed he clearly had.)</p><p>That meant that Harley was wearing a sweatshirt that had “Parker” emblazoned in bright yellow block letters across the back because the AcaDeca team was feeling fancy that year.</p><p>(The blue of the hoodie also matched the color of Harley’s eyes and Peter couldn’t really deal.)</p><p>(It was embarrassingly easy for Peter to let his mind drift into a fantasy for a moment. One about fucking Harley while he was wearing nothing but Peter’s hoodie, and he’d smell like Peter, and the hoodie would probably end up covered in Harley’s—nope. Peter would have to finish that thought when the subject wasn’t 10 feet away from him.)</p><p>So maybe Peter was already in a bad place to start what could end up being countless hours alone with Harley.</p><p>It only got worse when they actually started working.</p><p>Harley always had this presence when they were in the labs, coming out of his shell and into himself a bit more. He got cheekier. More sarcastic. Unafraid of his brain.</p><p>Peter always thought smarts were attractive. Harley wore it best.</p><p>Then, Harley sat down to work on the design for some new Avengers tech he was thinking of implementing—with Tony’s approval, of course—and he had to slip his glasses on his face.</p><p>Which was just unfair.</p><p>For one thing, Peter had glasses. He’d spent years being teased for looking nerdy with his plain, black framed glasses.</p><p>And here comes Harley, with his own glasses, that look exactly like Peter’s old ones, if not a bit bigger around his eyes, and he looks like those guys that say they’re nerds just ‘cause they wear glasses as a fashion statement. He looks like one of those guys. But hotter. It makes Peter mad.</p><p>But how can he be mad when Harley’s looking so damn fine just a table away from him?</p><p>The glasses come off only a minute after they went on. (Peter should know. He spent the whole time staring, and hoping his focal point didn’t look up.) But before Peter can mourn their disappearance, Harley is letting out a groan. Peter’s eyes snap back to him. “Ugh, it’s so hot in here.”</p><p>Before Peter can stop his own mouth, or at least remember his filter, he’s saying, “Are you sure it’s not just you?”</p><p>Luckily, Harley takes it in stride. (Although…was that a blush or just a result of the heat?Because yeah, the lab was pretty hot.)</p><p>“Wow darlin’,” he says as he pulls Peter’s hoodie up over his head, revealing a sliver of smooth skin along the waistband of his jeans and fuck—“I don’t know where that came from, but thanks.” He only just breathed the last word, but Peter could hear it, and feel the blush that permeated his normally fair complexion.</p><p>(Peter pretends his heart rate returns to normal.)</p><p>(It doesn’t.)</p><p>There is an almost unnatural silence in the lab after that. In part, it’s because Peter is afraid to open his mouth, for fear he’ll only squeak—or worse, confess his deepest feelings for Harley, because heaven knows they’re constantly on the tip of his tongue.</p><p>Peter is about to make up an excuse to leave early, because there’s only so much heavy sexual tension a person can take before they feel like they’re suffocating with want and Peter reached that point weeks ago, when Harley manages to trip over the air, a pleasant side affect of long legs.</p><p>Turns out, spider senses actually can come in handy, for things that aren’t anticipating your friend’s stupid jump-scares, because he is able to catch Harley before his head can smack into the hard floor.</p><p>(For someone with such an athletic build, Harley has absolutely terrible hand-eye coordination, and even worse reflexes. His arms wouldn’t be able to shoot out in time to catch him, and Peter really couldn’t have Harley die, especially not before they even got to kiss.)</p><p>“Jeez, you really fell for me, huh Harls?” Peter manages to choke out over the heart that’s lodged in his throat, because when Harley looks up, his eyes linger on Peter’s lips for, what? The third time? And then Peter leans his head down just slightly, so close to kissing Harley that all the latter has to do is angle his neck a little higher. The air around them is thrumming with energy and it’s all going to be so perfect because they’re in the lab, a place they’re both so comfortable and Tony and Pepper are supposed to be in and out of meetings all day, so there’s no way anyone will interrupt and—</p><p>Guess who counted their chickens before they hatched!</p><p>Peter Parker, that’s who.</p><p>Because just as Harley tilted his head up the centimeter he needed to and Peter let his eyes flutter closed because they were so damn close, Tony Fucking Stark walked in the room. He’d been looking down at his phone as he loudly announced that he was ready to see Peter’s newest project whenever he was, so he didn’t see what they were almost doing. He also didn’t see Peter and Harley springing away from each other like shrapnel.</p><p>Peter hid his disappointment.</p><p>He also tried not to notice the way Harley’s eyes lingered on him for a millisecond too long for the rest of the night.</p><p> </p><p>+1</p><p>After a long day working in the lab or patrolling, it’s normally quite easy for Peter to fall asleep at night. He’ll leave on patrol at 7:00, when he gets home at 10:00, he’ll work for a bit longer, tying up any and all loose ends, and then Harley will pester him into going upstairs at around midnight.</p><p>He’s asleep the second his head hits the pillow.</p><p>This night was no different.</p><p>Peter had shoved a pair of earbuds in his ears after—what?—the fifth almost-kiss, really not enjoying how awkward everything had become, and tried to drown out the rest of the world. It was only when Harley brought him back to Earth with a tap to his shoulder and a soft, “Hey, i’m going to bed, wanna come?” that Peter even thought about the boy in question.</p><p>(That was a lie. Peter thought about Harley every time he heard a love song, and he doubted much could change that.)</p><p>Then he sped through getting ready for bed, only realizing how tired he really was when he had to walk to the elevator and from the elevator to his bedroom.</p><p>As usual, he was asleep as soon as his head hit his pillow.</p><p>(That didn’t last.)</p><p>***</p><p>Peter woke to find himself in the pseudo family room in the tower, the television on in front of him, playing something, but everything felt blurred slightly, so Peter couldn’t make out what it was.</p><p>There was no time to wonder how he’d gotten there when he looked around himself a bit more to find Harley with his head in Peter’s lap and fast asleep. Peter let his fingers slightly tangle in the former’s hair, relishing his shiver when they tugged lightly on the soft strands. If Peter could live in that moment forever, he would. Only, maybe he’d change the fact that Harley was so dead to the world that nothing could happen between the two of them.</p><p>But before he could commit everything that was happening to memory, there was a crash.</p><p>A scream.</p><p>Harley lifted his head out of Peter’s lap, eyes blinking in rapid succession, clearly trying to remember what was happening.</p><p>Suddenly, before Peter’s spider senses had even picked up on a third party in the room, Doctor Octopus was standing before him, yanking Harley to his feet by the back of his shirt. Peter couldn’t even process what was happening as quickly as it was. Besides, Doc Ock was supposed to be locked up in one of the Avengers’ high security prisons.</p><p>Peter didn’t even have time to react, before one of the Doctor’s metal claws was forced through Harley’s chest from the back.</p><p>Harley cried out in pain, a sound that that made Peter feel like he’d been stabbed.</p><p>The wind left Peter’s lungs so quickly he felt like he was suffocating. A sob wracked his frame and he tried to reach for Harley, who’s eyes were glazed over, body limp, but he couldn’t move. He wanted to, fuck, he wanted to, but his feet felt like they were stuck.</p><p>In one quick motion, Doctor Octopus had thrown Harley’s body across the room, limbs bent at odd angles. Peter screamed, and it tore out of his throat, sounding ragged and broken.</p><p>He tried to fight back, but all he could think of was Harley.</p><p>It took only minutes for him to be taken down.</p><p>Peter resigned himself to his fate.</p><p>***</p><p>He woke with a start, and as soon as the images from his nightmare began flooding back, he sobbed loudly, shoulders shaking. His eyes were glassy with tears and he couldn’t see, but he couldn’t close his eyes, because that’s when it hurt.</p><p>Peter gripped his own hair like a vice, tugging like he meant to rip it out. It felt like he was clawing through his memory, searching for the image of Harley’s peaceful face, fast asleep and perfect, but all he could find was his soul-less eyes after Doc Ock had practically skewered him.</p><p>All he could find was the cry of agony Harley had released.</p><p>All he could think was that he hadn’t saved him.</p><p>Everything in Peter’s mind felt like it was buzzing. Every noise was muffled like he was underwater.</p><p>He didn’t hear FRIDAY inquiring if he was alright.</p><p>He didn’t hear his door open.</p><p>He barely saw the figure enter the room.</p><p>All he heard was a soft, “Pete?” before the melted looking shadow was rushing to his side.</p><p>Peter immediately recoiled, scrambling away from the blur, breath coming out in short, audible pants. He brought a shaking hand up to guard his face, instantly worried his dream had become something of a reality and the supervillain from the nightmare had actually escaped his prison. Maybe his hand wouldn’t do much to protect himself, but at least, if he died, Harley didn’t have to.</p><p>But no mechanical claws reached out to grab him. Instead, there was a quiet whisper. “Peter, hon, it’s me. Can you take your hand away so I can help you?”</p><p>Peter’s spider senses weren’t warning him of danger, so he lowered his arm only slightly. With only a small flinch, he let the person guide him arm the rest of the way down. Whoever it was kept their hand softly on Peter’s arm.</p><p>Then, with slow, deliberate movements, the shadow person moved carefully onto Peter’s bed next to him. Peter didn’t scoot away, and when the figure brought him into their arms, he let himself go boneless.</p><p>He shouldn’t trust this person without even knowing who it was, but their body heat was a comfort, and something about them was absolutely safe.</p><p>Breathing still uneven and somewhat painful, Peter let out a low exhale. The person rubbed a hand over Peter’s forearm, and before his breath could stutter through another sob, he inhaled sharply.</p><p>It took a moment, but the scent that met his nose was one so distinctly Harley, it sent him straight back into his nightmares.</p><p>It was what he’d smelled with his head on Harley’s shoulder while they watched their movie.</p><p>The only thing he could smell through his congestion when Harley was taking care of him while he was sick.</p><p>What he could smell when he was comforting Harley after his bad date.</p><p>The scent of Harley while they danced in the rain.</p><p>How he’d smelled when they were so close to kissing in the lab.</p><p>The smell he imagined Harley had had with his head in Peter’s lap before he’d been killed.</p><p>So very suddenly, images poured into Peter’s mind of his terrible nightmare, and he screamed, pushing away from the Harley-impersonator in his room. He brought his knees to his chest, arms secure around his legs as he rocked himself gently on the bed. Harley was okay, he had to be.</p><p>Eyes still fuzzy and adjusting to the dark while Peter adjusted to consciousness, and ears full of white noise, Peter felt so on edge he couldn’t breathe. He’d almost forgotten about the other in his room, feeling so disoriented, it wasn’t even close to funny.</p><p>It was only when the person—supposedly Harley—brought a callused hand to Peter’s back, rubbing softly as he sobbed, that he even remembered, oh yeah, I’m not alone.</p><p>He had to find out who it was, though.</p><p>He had to find out if Harley was still alive.</p><p>Peter blinked back tears so furiously, his eyes began to burn, and he shook his head so hard he could feel his brain, but it worked. He could see more than blurred silhouettes, and he could hear humming.</p><p>There was a moment where his breathing had evened, just enough that he could make out the sound in his ear.</p><p>The song was Cherry Wine by Hozier.</p><p>Harley’s favorite song.</p><p>Peter had to squeeze his eyes shut, as a memory came to his mind. He and Harley listening to music in Harley’s room, and Harley’s exclamation of “I love this song!” When he’d heard the first few chords. He stood up, extending a hand to Peter, that he took with caution.</p><p>Seconds later, Peter found himself slow dancing to the song while Harley whispered the lyrics.</p><p>Ripping his head off of the shoulder he was resting on, Peter’s eyes quickly scanned over Harley’s startled face. Because Harley was here. Harley was alive.</p><p>He didn’t really consider the consequences of his actions, as he shoved Harley back onto the bed, clambering over his hips—in such a way that, he later realized, he was straddling Harley—and immediately running his hands over Harley’s sides and stomach and collar and face.</p><p>Harley looked confused for a few moments before he seemed to realize Peter was reassuring himself that he was there, at which time he gripped Peter’s shoulders and brought him down against him in a tight embrace, murmuring soft, “I’m here”s to the shaking boy in his arms.</p><p>Peter, once his tears had subsided, lifted his head from Harley’s chest, where his breathing had been a constant comfort to him, only to find that his pillow was already fast asleep.</p><p>Good, Peter thought, I’ll keep you safe.</p><p>***</p><p>Waking up to Harley Keener in his bed was something Peter had only fantasized about before.</p><p>Now it was reality.</p><p>Well, sort of. In his dreams, he and Harley were always wearing considerably less, and Peter didn’t have tears dried to his face and red eyes that he scrambled to rub away so Harley didn’t see how wrecked—and not in a good way—he looked.</p><p>A positive side affect of the position they fell asleep in, was that Peter has a perfect view of Harley’s peaceful face, and this time, he’s on high alert, so he won’t risk anything happening.</p><p>But, after an hour of observing the rise and fall of Harley’s chest, watching his lips part with every breath he took, and playing with his hair softly, so he wouldn’t wake up, Peter had gotten sort of restless. He needed to get up, to move.</p><p>He was in the middle of weighing his options—get out of bed and leave Harley, or stay right where he was and waste the day staring at his crush—when said crush began to stir, and Peter forced himself to sit up.</p><p>Harley’s blue eyes blinked open gently and Peter nearly cooed. “Hey Pete,” he mumbled, voice slurred with sleep. “How’re you doin’?”</p><p>Peter shrugged uselessly, because he hadn’t accounted for Harley’s morning voice when he’d practiced what he’d say when the blond actually woke up. And damn he was not prepared, because Harley’s voice was low and smoky, and sounded too sexy to be fair. Peter felt a shiver run down his spine.</p><p>“You ready to talk about what had you so freaked out last night?” Harley asked.</p><p>Peter gave another noncommittal shrug, but then Harley sat up and wrapped his arms around him, resting a stubbled chin on Peter’s clothed shoulder, and Peter felt any and all resolve he had crumble around him like drywall.</p><p>“I had a nightmare.”</p><p>Harley, his voice vibrating in Peter’s chest due to their close proximity, asked the dreaded, “What was it about sweetheart?”</p><p>“I—” Peter really didn’t want to answer because then Harley might figure everything out. If he didn’t reciprocate, it would kill Peter. If he lost Harley’s friendship because of this, he’d never forgive himself. But Harley looked so earnest that Peter forced the words out, pretending he didn’t rip his heart out with them.</p><p>“It…it was about you.” He choked on a whimper as he thought back to it.</p><p>“You died. I couldn’t do anything to s—save you, and I can—can just see, h—how lifeless you looked an—and I—” His voice cut off as yet another fucking cry ripped through his body.</p><p>“Oh honey…” Harley’s eyes were far too soft, and Peter felt like he was melting. There was a moment of quiet in which Harley adjusted his grip from around Peter’s shoulders casually to a full hug, arms completely surrounding his frame, tight so he could pull the brunet into his lap and comfort him better.</p><p>“I know, it’s stupid. I shouldn’t be so m—messed up over this and I’m just a baby. I—I know.”</p><p>Peter pushed his forehead into Harley’s shoulder, forcing his breath to calm from the jerkiness that came from crying.</p><p>The latter combed his hand through Peter’s hair. “I don’t think that’s stupid at all. I think I understand how torn up you were. I know I would be if anything happened to you.”</p><p>Peter looked up at Harley’s admission, Hoping and Praying he wasn’t reading too much into everything the past few weeks had been alluding to. If the way Harley was looking at him was to say anything, Peter didn’t think there was anyway for him to be reading it wrong.</p><p>Fuck it.</p><p>His breath hitched. Eyes flickered down to lips, and Peter wasn’t sure who leaned first or if his face was red or if Harley’s was, but he pushed his lips against Harley’s—</p><p>And suddenly, they were kissing.</p><p>And everything went static.</p><p>And it was so good.</p><p>There was a warmth that spread through Peter’s enhanced veins and he gripped Harley’s upper arms to pull him closer together. It wasn’t the most elegant kiss, both of them too hazy from sleep and released romantic tension, and it wasn’t made for romance novels, complete with butterflies or fireworks or any of that shit, but it was them and it was home.</p><p>But stupid breathing, something Peter had apparently been struggling with for the past few hours, had to get in the way, and they both had to pull away after a minute or two. They didn’t go far, foreheads pressed against one another like in cheesy movies, and just staring at each other, because yeah, that just happened.</p><p>And boy, was Harley a sight to behold. With his lips kiss-bruised and breath coming out all shallow, eyes pinched shut, he looked straight out of a wet dream. Peter just had to kiss him again. And one kiss turned into two, and two turned into five until they were giggling too much to kiss properly.</p><p>“I really like you Peter,” Harley sighed.</p><p>Peter’s blood was thrumming and the whole scene felt surreal. He grinned. “I really like you, Harley.”</p><p>They kissed again, letting it go deeper because, hey, they’d waited long enough.</p><p>Not even a minute later, Harley pulled away and Peter didn’t bother to stop from whining at the loss of contact.</p><p>“You can’t laugh at me for this, but does this mean we’re like…I don’t know, boyfriends?”</p><p>Maybe, maybe, Peter laughed, but Harley pouted at him and he leaned in to kiss it away. Could you blame him for getting carried away when the guy he’d like for months was right there and looking so kissable? Well, probably. After all, he was kind of acting like a stupid teenager. But he was a teenager, so ha.</p><p>Harley pulled back again. “No, seriously, are we? Because if I walk away from this conversation and we aren’t dating, MJ will call me a coward again, and—”</p><p>“Yes, I want to be boyfriends, you dork. I’ve liked you for forever. If you’ll have me, I want nothing more.”</p><p>This time, Harley kissed him. Because they could do that now. They could be cute and domestic and couple-y and not have to worry about what the other felt because they felt the same. And it was awesome.</p><p>Something tickled the back of Peter’s brain, though, and he placed a hand on Harley’s chest to separate them some. He knew from what he’d been doing moments ago that if they kept their heads so close together, he’d get interrupted. “Wait, what do you mean ‘MJ will call you a coward again’?”</p><p>“I mean,” Harley’s face flushed a lovely pink, “I’ve tried to kiss you like five times now, but I’ve always chickened out, and every time, MJ gets all exasperated and calls me lame and shit. It’s embarrassing.”</p><p>That made Peter grin. At least he wasn’t the only one whose pining MJ was so done with. “In that case, I think we have to be boyfriends. To save you from embarrassment, I mean.” He said, putting on a face that he hoped made it seem like the thought alone didn’t make him giddy.</p><p>“Oh shut up,” Harley frowned.</p><p>And Peter did. Because it’s hard to talk when you’re kissing your boyfriend.</p>
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